Sensitive
by Jack Mirembe
Summary: Love isn't just a feeling. It's the most complex sensation we can ever experience. And right now, all of my senses are overloading. BBXRae series
1. Tactile

_SORRY SORRY SORRY! My computer and imagination had me locked out for a good amount of time there. Had this waiting in my document folder, just begging to be finished for months now. And now I guess it is. Please enjoy!_

_I do not own the Titans. All rights go to the right people._

* * *

There is something wrong with how Beast Boy touches her.

Most of the time, it's unavoidable. The accidental brushing of his arm against hers as they pass each other in the hallways. The brief seconds where he'll lean across her at dinner, reaching for something a little too far away. Car rides where his body is a solid line of heat along her side.

Other times he isn't just a helpless bystander. Like the times when he grips her hand to pull her towards a movie poster. Or moments when he's wrapped his arm around her shoulders to steer her away from prying eyes and eager cameras. The unspoken reassurance of his back pressed against hers in a battle. She knows he isn't intentionally trying to make her uncomfortable so she lets those instances slide by with only a minor warning.

Beast Boy is usually the willing hand ready to pull her off the ground when she needs it. He's also the ready shoulder to lean on when she won't admit she wants it. More than once, he's been the arms that carried her to safety. That is all acceptable though. She has no reason to be upset with him in those situations.

He's usually trying to protect her. Or even better, attempting to pull her into the vastly different world he lives in. She'll never admit to it, but the gesture is almost as touching as he tends to be. Those are all times when he can get away with touching her and she doesn't want to argue. But she still does anyways.

Overall, there's nothing inappropriate about how he touches her in either the action or intention. He's been raised to be a hero, so he behaves as one.

She still lectures him constantly about personal space. Pushes away the offered hand and ignores his waiting arms. For the most part he listens. Sometimes he just doesn't bother to. But that isn't the real problem.

She's seen how his eyes will smolder, usually right before he dives head long into some sort of trouble. The playfully crooked grin that splits across his face when something has gained his full attention never escapes her notice. And maybe, just maybe, she has wondered what capturing his entire focus would feel like.

The problem is that she sometimes wishes he wasn't so utterly innocent.

Beast Boy doesn't have many secrets, but one is that he's constantly running a fever. Next to nobody knows it and even fewer understands why. Even she isn't completely sure, but she knows it has something to do with his powers. Regardless of the reason, he's always burning up. Every time he touches her, it's like some of that fever passes to her. And in his absence, the world becomes that much colder.

Sometimes she imagines what it would be like if he set her blood on fire on purpose. What it would feel like to constantly be enveloped in the warmth he radiates. How it would feel to completely surrender to the shocking heat he introduces to her cold world.

So she pushes him as far away as she can stand to. Not because he touches her too much. No, she's terrified to discover she doesn't think he does it enough.


	2. Audible

_Chapter 2! I haven't had time to reply to the reviews from the last chapter. I'll probably get to that later tomorrow. It's sort of on the late side in my neck of the woods. Tonight is all about hearing or listening. But the way I see it, you can't be heard if nobody understands you. I was going to do just the five sense, but I think I'm going to have to expand my definition of "sense". Hmm, much to ponder. In the meantime, please enjoy!_

_I don't own the Titans. The right people have all the rights._

* * *

He'd like to tell her how he feels. For some reason it never comes out quite how it should. No matter what words he tries to use, they all tangle and tumble together in a mess. Even he can't believe the strange phrases that he produces sometimes.

She's so smart that he feels ridiculously stupid in front of her. Getting a great education was never high on his list of priorities. Hearing her speak makes him wish it had been. He's terrified of looking or sounding like an idiot in front of her. He wants to be smart like Robin or witty like Cyborg. But the harder he tries, the worse he does.

Honestly, she doesn't need words to talk to him. Their eyes will meet and she knows what he's feeling, what he is trying so hard to say. But he still wants to be able to tell her himself. So he keeps trying, no matter how embarrassing the last attempt was.

There have only been a handful of times he's actually said the right thing to her. He's insanely proud of those few precious moments. Every one of those seconds has its place of honor amidst the finest of his entire life. Saving the world somehow seems small to knowing he managed to connect with her on a deeper level, if only for a little while.

He wants to tell her how stunning she is when she meditates. How the sight of her being happy makes him content with life. That no matter how insane their world gets, he knows they'll be okay together. Or that nothing in this dimension or any other could ever make him care for her less. The words just won't cooperate.

He's actually attempted to ask her out before. Nobody knows about it. Between his nerves and his mouth, it had just been a mangled mess. Raven didn't even realize that's what he was trying to do. Honestly, he's kind of happy that she wasn't aware of his intent. It kept the encounter at their normal level of awkward instead of a thousand times worse.

All he needs is one of those rare perfect times when his words match his thoughts. When he can say something real that doesn't become a lame pun or riddle. The world will be calm. She'll be happy. And he won't spout nonsense like every other defining instant of his life.

Instead of saying she's stunning, he'll blurt out something about how much better she looks compared to normal. It would probably help if he could manage to tell her that he always thinks she's beautiful. Even that has proved to be too much for him. The story always ends with him trying to gather up the shattered pieces of her opinion of him.

That shouldn't really be all that surprising. It just seems to be his lot in life.

He'd give anything to explain himself to her. Actually, he'd give everything in exchange for one coherent sentence. He already knows exactly what it would be.

"Raven, no matter what else I may say, I'm always trying to say that I am always going to be here for you no matter what happens so you can always depend on me being here to watch over you and take care of you so don't ever forget that I'm never going to leave you alone or forget about you because you mean way too much to me for me to leave and I'd never forgive myself if I ever let you down so next time I say something completely stupid, remember that I'm really just trying to tell you how important you are to me."

So it's not the most grammatically correct sentence the world has ever seen. Nor is it completely coherent. But he's almost certain it would get his point across.

He just has to hope that between the mindreading and emotion sensing, she'll hear the real meaning behind his jumbled words.


	3. Visual

_My middle name should be Phoenix or Zombie. I just keep coming back from the dead. Updates: Graduated from college. Will work on Masters' degree. Needs summer job._

_Originally developed around the concept of the visual. I had actually meant for this to be slightly more PG than it turned out. The relation towards books was just a analogy that took over the chapter. I think it worked though. Please enjoy!_

_Exhausted is normal. Not owning anything is also normal. - J_

* * *

There are people that don't understand what Raven sees in Beast Boy.

They all love to point out his flaws to her. His immaturity and reckless attitude, the utter lack of professionalism he displays. How his ignorance is so shameful and complete, he doesn't know when to be embarrassed. The way he avoids responsibility and order like it could kill him.

They tell her over and over. He's too small, too scrawny. He's foolish. Arrogant. Idiot. Naïve. Stubborn. The flood of opinion never seems to end, like no one stops to think she hasn't considered this all before herself. As if she doesn't already know his shortcomings. Raven has always been able to read him like a book. Every thought and emotion he has is clearer than print on a page.

With so many problems, Beast Boy couldn't even qualify as a diamond in the rough. At least there is an assumed value to an uncut diamond. He's the random trinket that nobody ever pays attention to. No real purpose or function, just sort of there. The awkward unwanted present left over at a gift exchange. Something Raven just happened to get stuck with.

Raven's books have taught her better. Those ancient tomes that demand nothing less than full attention, limitless time, and painstaking care in exchange for being read. Battered and faded cover binding together brittle pages. Once brightly colored illustrations bleached by the passage of time. Corners bent and edges frayed, far too often pages carelessly ripped out by a previous thoughtless reader. You can't rush through those aged pages. It takes patience and effort, but the contents of those old books are some of the most valuable she has ever read.

Nobody ever sees what she does. Nor are they allowed to see what she does.

They don't get to see the wild hero become the exhausted little boy. Or how pathetic the little boy becomes when he tries to stay awake, just to talk for a few hours. Who else bothers to get close enough to notice the bags beneath his eyes or the weariness in his shoulders? The curve of his lips at something he shouldn't find funny goes unnoticed too. She is the only one that knows the curve of his biceps wrapped around her during a nightmare.

But she's taken the time to read between the lines. All of his infamous flaws are there, like stains against the pages of his character. The scars other people have left on him. The ones he's created himself. Those marks don't change the message though.

He really is beautiful. Years of work and effort leave an obvious mark. She knows from personal experience and visual evidence the strength hiding his small frame. The curves and lines of muscle are often interrupted with old scars. Tiny gouges and winding patterns randomly carved into his body, all the edges faded by time. Each one has its own story. She has only heard a handful of them, but he is easily the most complex body of work she has ever found. He is a work in progress that is aching with potential. The only thing missing is somebody willing to listen and wait. All he needs is a reason to continue, just to know somebody is waiting for the next chapter.

When the world sidles in close and whispers all his problems, Raven simply accepts the comments. Any one is entitled to their own opinions. If they can't see the worth beneath the grime and careless treatment he's suffered, that is their problem.

She is no rush to correct anyone's vision. As long as he's overlooked, she doesn't have to share.


	4. Scent

_A new update for my underground set of BBRae stories. Huge thank you's go to everybody who has taken the time to read over these, even if you haven't reviewed. I'm horrible at leaving reviews so I can't complain.: ) I've been writing this one for almost a month. My job is kicking my butt and I'm so exhausted all the time. Enough about me, please enjoy!_

_I don't own the Titans. - JM_

* * *

Ever since he joined the Titans, Beast Boy smells like lavender.

It follows him everywhere. From the soap in the bathroom to the socks he wears much too long. For such an innocent scent, it clings to his skin like a jealous lover. He just can't escape the soft aroma.

His clean laundry reeks of the flower's fragrance. Nothing seems capable of removing the hint of lavender from his uniform. Dirt and sweat have no effect. Blood just adds a tang of sharp copper to the bitter sweetness. Even after wrestling with Plasmus, he can still pick out the lingering flowery scent through the muck and slime.

His sheets even smell like the innocent purple flower. Every night when he collapses exhausted into bed, lavender welcomes him. It lulls and soothes against jumbled thought and jittery instinct. Something about the smell of lavender never fails to make him feel at ease and comforted. In his sleep, lavender winds itself through his dreams.

Before the Titans, his scent had comprised of normal things. Dirt, grass, and the understated bite of salt from the ocean he spends too much time around. Some days brought the faded scents of smoke, blood, and just the tiniest hint of desperation. Then there were traces that weren't so every day. Fur and feathers and sweat. It all blended and faded together to create something uniquely his own.

Except now his scent is all those things plus the perfume from a pretty purple flower. But lavender isn't really a problem. The problem is the reason behind lavender.

Like has gone with like since the beginning of time. It is the most sacred rule of the laundry room, a place where he has absolutely no power. So his dark uniform gets thrown in the wash with navy leotards and royal blue cloaks. Flowery detergent and fabric softener aren't his first choice, but they most certainly are somebody else's. Somebody he has enough ridiculous arguments with already.

The shampoo he steals shamelessly is dizzying from soft lavender and faint vanilla. He's too lazy to remember what type he likes or that he needs to get it. Reaching for the slim purple bottle is easy and instinctive now. Very little compares to finishing a long, exhausting day with a hot shower and stolen soap. It's been habit for years now, and he's never ever been told to stop. So he just keeps taking without asking.

The flower doesn't cause that itch inside his head. It's the fact that he's not the only one.

The swish of her cloak in flight is lavender. Warm breezes playing through her hair is lavender. The elegant lines of her uniform are lavender. Gentle eyes filled with untold wishes the color of lavender. Her dark room is steeped in ancient parchment and faded flowers. Lavender is the hint of her smile, so soft and just the right amount of bitter to sweet. She is poise, elegance, refinement, control, everything he isn't and lavender.

He's undomesticated, unpredictable, and unable to understand big words. Nothing he is screams lavender. Such a soft and understated scent doesn't suit somebody so rough around the edges. Lavender seems to call for poise and elegance. Beast Boy isn't lavender. That's just how the world is supposed to be.

Yet the scent of lavender never seems to completely fade from him or his surroundings. It's a fact he doesn't hide tied to secret he can't bring himself to admit. Lavender may have never picked him, but he most certainly picked lavender when the time came. Yes, it's a little embarrassing but it was also a little inevitable. He was going to do it on his terms.

It feels like he started stealing her shampoo a lifetime ago. Years since he meekly accepted the feminine touch of flowers on his clean laundry. It's going to take a lot longer until he can voice what that means. Until then, Beast Boy will just cling to his secret like the lingering hint of lavender to his skin.


End file.
